


The Price of a Pact

by BeelsBae



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Biting, Demon Form, Diavolo is a precious bean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hallucinations, Kissing, Mild Blood, Pact Making, Reader-Insert, Size Kink, Soft Diavolo, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeelsBae/pseuds/BeelsBae
Summary: SPOILERS: You should have played through chapter 20. Also contains a major plot spoiler for the past event 'Welcome to Hell's Garden'.Lord Diavolo asks if you'd be interested in forming a pact with him, but you learn that doing so may entail more than you bargained for.
Relationships: Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Diavolo/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 101
Kudos: 766





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm publishing this one-shot in 3-4 chapters because of the length and multiple settings. Also because I'm slow and you all deserve some content, haha! Explicit sexual content will begin in chapter 3, and I will update the tags at that time, so be sure to check them!

Seven days. That’s how long you have left in the Devildom. Lucifer had made sure to remind you of your approaching departure a week or so ago, so that you could make preparations. And yet, you still haven’t found time to discuss your leaving with the rest of your housemates. It just never seemed like the right time.

You’d been just about to broach the topic when Levi started going off about the new game he pre-ordered and how much you’d like it, and you didn’t have the heart to remind him that you wouldn’t be here to play it.

You’d been preparing post-workout snacks for Beel in the kitchen, and you’d meant to bring it up while he was quietly munching away, but then he’d said something about how everything he eats tastes better when you’re around, and you’d found yourself suddenly too emotional to talk about it.

Satan should have been easy. The plan was simple. Corner him alone in the library, tell him you’ll miss him, and give him a hand-made book-mark to remember you by. But when the time came, he’d looked up at you with a wide smile and asked what the occasion was, and you’d blurted out: _Just because!_

You’re worried about Mammon more than anyone. In fact, you haven’t even tried to bring it up with him yet, worried he’ll do something crazy like avoid you for the rest of your time here, pretending he won’t miss you to make it easier for him to let you leave.

It’s in such a mood that you find yourself pacing the grounds at RAD after hours, reluctant to go back to the House of Lamentation when you’re feeling so low. And it’s here where Lord Diavolo finds you.

“Why, MC! Just the human I was looking for.” Lord Diavolo’s grin forces the corners of your lips upward just a bit, despite your mood. Seeing him is always a nice surprise, especially since he’s usually busy with academy affairs or personal projects.

“Good evening, my lord!” You say, stopping to wait for him on the path as the royal makes his way towards you.

“A very pleasant evening indeed.” Lord Diavolo agrees, coming to your side. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

“Please do.” You say with a smile, and the two of you set off to continue on your way around the school grounds.

As you round a bend in the path, you come into the courtyard where mirage flowers feature in the center of an already vibrant garden. The rainbow blossoms bring back memories of the time you helped the brothers solve the mystery of the disappearing plant, only to find that Lord Diavolo had been the one removing them from the wester forest, bringing them here to decorate the school grounds. The memory is bitter-sweet, and you stop walking without really intending too, staring at new buds sprouting among the leaves. _Will I be here when they bloom?_

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Lord Diavolo asks, crossing his arms and following your gaze.

He doesn’t need your confirmation, but you nod affirmatively anyway. “Absolutely.”

The flowers glow in the twilight darkness of the Devildom, and you can tell it’s growing late by the gentle hum of nocturnal insects that fills the garden with melancholy music. Lord Diavolo studies you, noting the way you hold your arm and stare, unmoving, at the center of the landscape, as though you’re seeing through it.

“Is something on your mind, MC?”

Lord Diavolo’s question brings you back to your senses, and you raise your face to see him watching you with concern. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I was just… thinking. It’s been a long year.” You say, glancing away from him again to the impressive, castle-like buildings that surround you in the courtyard. “So much has happened.”

“That’s true.” Lord Diavolo says, looking thoughtful. “I hope you’ve found your stay pleasant, even so.” His fingers tap his arm absentmindedly, as though he’s anxious to learn if you have enjoyed your time. 

“I have.” You almost whisper, the emotions of the evening swelling in your chest, bringing tears to your eyes. _Seven days_. _That’s all I have left_. The mirage flowers become bright, blurry blotches as you blink rapidly, trying to hold back from all-out crying in front of Lord Diavolo, of all demons.

“May I ask what’s wrong?” You feel Lord Diavolo’s presence shift, drawing nearer to you, and he offers up a black handkerchief. You take it silently, not trusting your voice, and force in a shaky breath as you blot away the tears that have begun silently tracking down your cheeks. Lord Diavolo’s expression is concerned, but you turn away so he can’t see the mess you’re making of your face.

“I’ll miss them.” You finally manage with a last dab to your eyes, knowing he’ll understand who you mean. And… you’ll miss Lord Diavolo, too, you realize. His welcoming laugh, his optimistic attitude, his passion for every new project he takes on, every mischievous plan he orchestrates. You take another deep breath. “I’ll miss everyone.”

“I’m sure this won’t be a final goodbye.” Diavolo says quietly, trying to reassure you, worried at the suddenness of your outbreak.

His words have the opposite of their intended effect, and your tears once again begin to stream steadily. You’re unable to hold back the hiccupping sobs that break through against your will as you attempt to stifle them with the handkerchief.

Lord Diavolo panics a little; this isn’t the strong, brave exchange student he knows – the one who stood up to Lucifer, who charmed a demon dead-set on hating humanity for eternity, who traveled through time to find answers and almost died in the process. This isn’t _at all_ like the confident human he’s grown so very fond of.

Lord Diavolo approaches you, hoping to soothe your sadness and fear, and suddenly you’re being encircled by his large arms as he pulls you against his chest. “Please. It’ll be alright.”

Instead of shrinking away from the Prince’s gesture of affection, you find yourself sinking into his embrace as the sobs come, burying your face in his neck. Lord Diavolo is quiet and warm, and his presence comforts you as you find relief from your tension through your tears. He holds you close, a hand on the back of your head as you let out the sadness that’s been building all week.

The two of you stand like that, in the middle of the RAD garden, until your sobs subside, and you’re resting tiredly in Lord Diavolo’s arms. “Tell me what I can do for you.” The demon says, patting your hair comfortingly as your tears begin to let up. You pull back just enough for him to see your teary face. He’s a hands-width away, his golden eyes surprisingly warm with concern. Confronted with his honest empathy, you find yourself overcome again, and a sob rips through your throat.

“Shh,” Lord Diavolo’s arms leave your back, and he takes your head in both hands, pressing his palms to your cheeks. His face is indistinct through your tears, but you can still make out his kind expression, and you find yourself leaning towards him, welcoming his comforting touches.

“Please,” Lord Diavolo says, close enough for you to feel the force of his breath behind his words. “Tell me how to help you.” His thumbs wipe your tears with gentle, warm strokes.

An unexpected ache fills your chest at the thought of leaving this kind Lord of the Devildom. Before you quite realize what you’re doing, you’re leaning forward to give him a soft, salty, open-mouthed kiss. Lord Diavolo receives it graciously, gently accepting the warmth of your lips as you express your feelings in the depth of your kiss. When you pull away, his hands still hold your face, and he’s staring at you, eyes wide, lips parted.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to-“ A halting apology stutters from your lips as you realize what you've done, but Lord Diavolo cuts you off.

“You’re perfectly fine.” Lord Diavolo says seriously, pulling himself together and releasing your face. “Please don’t let it distress you.” He musters a playful smile. “I rather enjoyed it, if I’m being honest.”

You blush, your chagrin growing as you regain yourself in his presence, relieved he seems to view your slip as a moment of emotional overload. Had you seriously just sobbed on Lord Diavolo’s shoulder? And then _kissed_ him? Lucifer would be appalled. You can hear the Avatar of Pride already – _You did what?! It is completely inappropriate for Diavolo to be seen being engaged in PDA with one of the exchange students. Please tell me you at least had the decency to do so out of the sight of prying eyes._ Self-consciously, you glance around at the still-empty garden, when your eyes land on Lord Diavolo’s red uniform.

“I’m so sorry, my Lord, I’ve ruined your jacket.” You say, referring to the damp evidence of your indiscretion on his shoulder. Your embarrassment soars to new heights.

“Think nothing of it.” Lord Diavolo says with a dismissive gesture.

You nod, taking a step back to put some distance between yourself and the Prince. If he thinks nothing of it, then neither should you. “Well, I should be heading home.”

“I’ll escort you.” Lord Diavolo offers without hesitation.

“Oh, that isn’t necessary. It’s way out of your way!” You insist, a bit anxious at the idea of continuing your walk together all the way back to the House of Lamentation.

“You can’t walk alone at night.” Lord Diavolo replies, and you know he’s right.

You shrug your compliance, and the two of you set off in the direction of the House of Lamentation in silence.

Lord Diavolo regards you from the corner of his eye as your steps crunch on the path. _Home_ , you’d said. It warms his heart to know you’ve come to think of any part of the Devildom as the place you belong. It was more than he’d planned for, but not more than he’d hoped. He twiddles his thumbs behind his back, where one hand clasps the other, deep in thought. If he asks you now, Lord Diavolo wonders, will he be taking advantage of your vulnerability? Still, you only have seven days left – and he may not get another chance without the awkwardness of requesting you to see him formally. No, it’s better like this, here, just the two of you walking in the gathering evening shadows.

“There’s something I wanted to talk with you about.” Lord Diavolo says as you continue walking together, his voice drawing your attention away from the glowing insects that dance along the path. You turn to look at him expectantly.

Lord Diavolo clears his throat. “MC, will you consider making a pact with me?”

***

You find Satan in the library, as expected, holed up with some old volume or other and a glass of something stronger than tea. Out of all the brothers, you’ve decided to ask the Avatar of Wrath about Lord Diavolo’s request. Lucifer would most likely just insist that you _must_ make a pact with Lord Diavolo if he asks it, and the others – well, they aren’t known for always thinking things through, or keeping things to themselves. And so, you visit the library’s resident demon immediately upon returning to the House of Lamentation to seek his advice

Satan hears you enter the library and sets his book down, turning to you. “Good evening.”

“I can wait – you don’t have to stop reading.” You assure him, but the demon’s already closing his book, sliding in your bookmark to hold his spot securely. The gesture both warms and hurts your heart.

“It’s fine. I’m just finishing up for the night, anyway.” Satan says. You seem a more tired than usual. You also hadn’t walked home with Mammon, and you’d missed dinner. These facts combined tell him that you’re looking for an ear to bend. Honestly, he’s pleased knowing he’s the one you’ve come to for a talk. Not that there’s much competition from his brothers when it comes to offering knowledgeable advice.

You take a seat on the footstool next to Satan’s chair, and the demon hands you his beverage, sensing you could use a little fortitude. You take a quick swig of the Demonus and suck the air through your teeth as the liquid hits the back of your throat.

“Thanks.” You say simply, handing his glass back to Satan.

He watches you with interest. “What’s on your mind?”

You stare into the pattern of the rug beneath you, elbows resting on your knees, replaying the evening’s events in your mind: your cry, the kiss, his question. “Lord Diavolo asked if I would make a pact with him.” You drop your big news without looking up.

“Really?” Satan nearly exclaims, the note of surprise in his voice genuine. He stops himself from adding – _are you sure?_ – but his tone says it all.

“Yes.” You look up at the blonde demon, and he can tell from your expression that it’s true. “He told me to think about it and get back to him.”

“Hmm. I see.” Satan waits thoughtfully for you to continue. _So this is what’s been on their mind lately_ , he thinks, recalling your somewhat awkward behavior during the past week.

“And, I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to know what you think.” You say with a shrug. “I don’t know why, but it just seems like a pact with the Lord of all Devildom is somehow…” Your voice trails off.

“Different?” Satan finishes your thought, crossing one leg over the other in his chair.

You nod.

“It is, MC.” Satan looks at you thoughtfully, his blue-green eyes serious. “Not necessarily in a logistical way – the pact functions the same as it does for any of us – but a pact with the Prince of the realm shouldn’t be made lightly. It’s a great honor, but also a great responsibility. Some demons don’t care for the idea of a human having power over their lord.”

“Oh?” You ask, your curiosity piqued.

“It used to be more commonplace, but due to changes in popular opinion, Lord Diavolo hasn’t made a pact with a human in centuries.” _And yet, he’s asked you_ , Satan reflects with a small amount of worry, finding himself feeling a bit protective. He squashes the feeling down; overprotectiveness is Lucifer’s trait, _not_ his. 

“What do you think I should do?” You ask, angling yourself towards Satan, who sits in the chair watching you closely.

“You should make an informed decision. On your own.” Satan says, standing and reaching out a hand to pull you to your feet.

You follow Satan over to one of the many floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that form the walls of the library, waiting patiently while he runs a finger across the spines of the volumes until he finds the text he’s looking for. Pulling it off the shelf, Satan gives it a quick dust with his palm and hands you a thin, gold-leafed book. “Take this. It’s a historical account of witchcraft and pact-making in certain parts of the human realm.” He explains.

You run your fingers over the gold title: _Summoning the Prince of the Air_. Curious, you flip open to the table of contents, running your eyes over the page. Suddenly, your breath catches in your throat as your eyes land on one particular subheading.

“Um, is—is this book… accurate?” You inquire in a high voice, feeling your cheeks heat.

“For the most part. Why?” Satan says, coming to lean over your shoulder to see what’s gotten you so worked up. He follows your pointing finger to the chapter titled _The Pact-Forming Ceremony_ and then to the subsection labeled _Sexual Consummation._ The subheading stares at you both from the page in dark, ominous ink.

“Oh.” Satan says simply over your shoulder. “Yes. Traditionally, forming a contract with the Prince requires intercourse.”

Your heart pounds nervously. Lord Diavolo hadn’t mentioned anything like this, but maybe he’d assumed you already knew about the practice. Or maybe that’s why he’d wanted you to think about it? Or maybe he took your kiss to mean something more than just a kiss? You clear your throat. “Do you, um, think Lord Diavolo would expect me to…?”

“I don’t know.” Satan says thoughtfully, taking a step back. His uncertainty does nothing to reassure you.

“In the event that he does, you’ll need to decide what a pact with the next king of the Devildom is worth to you.” Satan says bluntly, without judgement. “And you’ll need to be prepared.”

“Er, prepared?” You ask, looking up at Satan with a furrowed brow, still thrown by his comment on what a pact might be _worth_.

“It’s discussed in the book, but witches would prepare themselves with spells and potions that would make consummating a pact with Lord Diavolo more… comfortable.” Satan says, a light dusting of pink coloring his cheeks. “He’s not just any demon, MC. He’s very powerful, and being exposed to that power can be overwhelming, even dangerous.”

“You mean, like, he could hurt me?” You ask, trying to imagine good-natured Diavolo losing his cool. You’ve seen him angry before, but he always seems so genuinely pleasant with you.

“Not intentionally.” Satan replies, taking the text from you and thumbing through the books’ pages. “Here.” Satan stops on a page with what looks like a woodcut print and holds the book open for you to see. “This is a depiction of a ritualistic pact-consummation. It’s a bit overdramatic, but you get the idea.”

The illustration shows naked men and women in what can only be described as compromising positions, their bodies writhing in either agony or pleasure; the faces are difficult to make out. In the middle of the group stands a larger-than-life demon with recognizable curving horns and large, gold-tipped wings. A circle of witches fawns over him, looking as if they’re in a trance.

“This… is him?” You ask, a small ball of dread solidifying in your stomach.

Satan glances up at you to catch your reaction, the blush on his cheeks deepening as he sees your eyes widen. He’s never considered the consummation rites to be unseemly before – not until he’s considered you partaking in them. “Like I said, it’s not entirely accurate. And relationships between the realms were different at that time.” He explains, clearing his throat.

“It says here this was only five hundred years ago.” You reply uncertainly. “Isn’t that pretty recent in… demon years?”

“It’s long enough for traditions to change.” Satan replies, closing the book and handing it back to you. You take it with some trepidation, still feeling the flush in your cheeks.

“Listen, you should decide what to do on your own.” Satan advises you. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll prepare an elixir that will make the act more bearable, just in case. You don’t have to tell me if you use it, but I’d like you to have it.” He says, making a mental list of ingredients he’ll need. He pulls out his D.D.D. to text Solomon to see what the sorcerer has on hand. “I wouldn't want anything to happen to you because you weren’t properly prepared.” Satan adds as he types.

“Satan, you’re scaring me.” You admit, feeling the pit in your stomach deepen.

Satan looks up at you and smiles, chuckling. “Don’t be so worried. Honestly, I’m being overly cautious. My best guess is that Lord Diavolo won’t ask you to consummate the pact. He hasn’t made a pact with a human in centuries. It’s an honor. You should take it as a compliment.”

You do, you think, take it as a compliment. But what if it’s something more? Or, what if you want it to be? You sigh deeply, eyes falling on the almost empty glass of Demonus on the side table. “Do you mind?” You ask Satan, pointing to the beverage.

“Not at all.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, thank you so much for your encouragement after the first chapter! I have been touched by your comments and subscriptions. Thank you, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story! <3

The fact is that it didn’t take you long at all to decide to make a pact with Lord Diavolo. You may even have decided to do so before you talked with Satan about it – before you learned that a pact with the Lord of the Devildom has historically involved ritualistic lovemaking. It’s a good thing, too, because your last seven days are flying by; mulling over the decision any longer would surely have meant a missed opportunity.

Lord Diavolo was elated by your answer, which you’d given him at RAD a few days ago. And although the two of you haven’t had a chance to talk properly since, he’s invited you over to the castle to have dinner. So that’s why, on a Wednesday evening, you find yourself in the music room at the Demon Lord’s castle listening to a post-dinner piano duet performed by a pair of rather talented Little Ds.

The small demons’ clawed fingers tickle the ivories, filling the music room with a song as ornate as your surroundings as you admire the ostentatious decorations and furniture of the Lord’s music room. The only similarity between this room and the music room at the House of Lamentation is its purpose; everything here is on a much grander scale. _Are all these things his personal taste?_ You wonder as your gaze moves from the furnishings to the royal sitting not far from you. You can’t quite smother your hope that, now that you've made a pact with him, you’ll be able to learn more about Lord Diavolo. As he listens, the demon rests his chin in one hand in concentration, forming a striking profile more handsome than any of the portraits you’ve yet seen in the Demon Lord’s castle.

You attempt to turn your attention back to the concert, realizing you’ve been staring. But the music only forms a soundtrack to your thoughts, which are caught up in reflecting on your evening with Lord Diavolo. It had started with making the pact in Barbatos’ presence, as he was obliged to document the affair in an ancient looking tome and had even had you sign your name on the page. The pact-making itself had been nothing particularly special: a few words of agreement and goosebumps on your arms. You’re not sure what you expected, but the simplicity of it was both relieving and disappointing. Not that you’d anticipated some grand fanfare, but after reading up on ritualistic pact-forming in the human realm, it had been a rather lackluster experience, overall. Dinner, on the other hand, had been anything but, as Barbatos had pulled out all the stops to give you his Lord a truly magnificent meal.

 _And the concert is certainly lovely_ , you think, trying once again to clear your head enough to focus on the performance. The melody is complex, beautiful, and haunting, with the Little Ds small hands dancing gracefully over the full range of the keys in perfect unison. _So demons_ can _get along_ , you think to yourself with a small smile. So much of the past year has revolved around certain demons _not_ getting along that the Little Ds’ teamwork reassures you in some strange way. _Maybe everything will be fine when I’m gone_ , you think as the etude crescendos, as rich and magnificent as the music room itself. By the time the performance concludes, you feel optimistic, your heart full of the dark but strangely triumphant music.

The Little Ds hop off the piano bench, taking bumbling bows and looking up at you and Lord Diavolo expectantly.

“Very well done!.” Lord Diavolo beams as the two of you clap enthusiastically. “That was a new piece, I think?”

“Yes, sir!” The Little Ds nod emphatically, their small round bodies practically bowing. 

Lord Diavolo turns to you. “They like to practice when I’m away and surprise me with something new when I return. It’s quite a treat.”

If Little Ds could blush, you’re sure they’d be as red as Mammon when he’s praised, and in fact, you think that one of them might actually be one of his tiny demons. The other’s flamboyant attitude reminds you of Asmo, somehow. Lord Diavolo dismisses the Little Ds with a final word of thanks, and they scurry out of the room, stealing backwards glances at you as they go.

“Even the Little Ds have taken a liking to you.” Lord Diavolo comments, amused.

“I like them, too.” You smile, watching the Little Ds’ work together to close the door behind them.

 _Of course_ , Lord Diavolo thinks. He’s never met a human who could bond so easily with demons before. You may be trusting to a fault, especially when it comes to some members of his kingdom, but your kind-heartedness is nothing short of a virtue, and it’s something that many demons seem to be inexplicably drawn to – himself among them.

“I’m quite happy to have made a pact with you, MC.” Lord Diavolo says, drawing your attention from where the Little Ds had exited.

“What? I mean, why is that, my Lord?” You ask, having not anticipated this change in subject.

“It’s been centuries since I’ve entered into a pact.” Lord Diavolo begins. “Not that long ago, it was commonplace for me to visit the human realm to do so, but times have changed.” He speaks softly. “I’m glad it’s you I’ve made a pact with after all this time.”

“Oh.” You say quietly, trying not to read too much into his words. “What’s changed since the last time you made a pact?” You ask instead, both curious and nervous at where the conversation might be headed.

Lord Diavolo smiles at the informality of your question; you’d never quite grown accustomed to using his title. Not that he minds. Actually, it’s one of the many human things about you he finds intriguing.

“Well, there were certain traditions when it came to pact-making that have since fallen out of favor. Covens used to conduct special ceremonies for the occasion. It was all very much about the showmanship of it, I’m afraid.” Lord Diavolo admits, but his grin tells you that he didn’t mind that bit at all. In fact, you’re certain it fit his personality perfectly.

“The ceremonies were usually held outdoors, in a wood or clearing.” Lord Diavolo continues. “Very intimate, spiritual, but not the most comfortable of arrangements. Though, the witches seemed to enjoy it.” He says, leaning back in his chair.

You’re pretty sure you know exactly what part of the ceremony the witches might have most enjoyed, and for some reason, you want Lord Diavolo to say it. If he’s going to ask you to consummate the pact, you would rather know sooner than later.

“What were the ceremonies like?” You inquire innocently, your heartrate increasing slightly as you steer the conversation into dangerous territory.

Lord Diavolo hesitates before answering, sensing that your question isn’t coming from a place of total ignorance. “Well, everyone would participate in the feasting and dancing,” He says, his expression serious. “And those select few who were to form a pact would step forward and sign the book as you did.” Lord Diavolo explains, watching you closely. “And then we’d sexually consummate the pact-bond.”

You try to react appropriately with a slight, but non-judgmental, look of surprise.

“Of course, all that has changed, as I said.” Lord Diavolo continues. “It’s no longer customary to require any physical intimacy as part of pact-making, although some do still partake in the practice.”

 _Satan was right, after all – Lord Diavolo would never ask that of me_. Your stomach drops in relief and… disappointment? You’d spent the last several days mentally preparing yourself for the possibility of sleeping with Lord Diavolo which, if you’re being completely honest, was easier than you’d thought it would be; you’ve discovered you’re not exactly opposed to the idea of a night of carnal pleasure with the Prince.

 _But, if sex isn’t the price of this pact, then what is_? You wonder suddenly, looking at the regal demon sitting a few feet away with worry. With the demon brothers, you’d had to barter a favor, essentially bribing them to form a pact with you. And you realize you have no idea what it is Lord Diavolo might want in exchange for his pact, if not sex.

“So, I don’t have to… engage in a physical relationship to secure our pact?” You confirm, blushing as you avoid looking directly at your companion.

“Ah, I see.” Lord Diavolo chuckles, understanding the anxiety that drives your question. “I believe this is what you call a cross-cultural miscommunication.” He explains. “The act of consummation was never the cost of the pact, but its celebration, a gesture towards the way that pact-holders are bound to one another.”

You blink at him, genuinely curious this time. “A celebration?”

“I suppose most human accounts focus on the price of gaining demonic power, perhaps to warn against dealings with demons, so it’s only natural for you to think of pact-making in those terms.” Lord Diavolo’s eyes sparkle, amused. “But that is not at all how I see it, nor how I want you to think of our arrangement.”

“I’m sorry, my Lord.” You apologize, cheeks hot with your embarrassment, feeling like you’ve insulted him somehow.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Lord Diavolo assures you with a smile. “Just a simple misunderstanding.”

“Then,” You look down at your lap thoughtfully, not sure you’re really ready to ask your question. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.” Lord Diavolo says, leaning forward attentively in his seat.

“Why did you want to make a pact with me?” You ask without raising your eyes.

“Why?” Lord Diavolo repeats, eyebrows raised. “You might’ve asked me that before making the pact, MC.” You look up at him, and the way he fixes you with his golden eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’ve been no small influence at RAD. You’ve done remarkably well here in our exchange program, and you’ve been a positive influence on some of the most powerful demons in the Devildom.” Lord Diavolo splays his hands in a characteristic gesture of openness, as if this should all be obvious. “You’ve helped those who are very important to me.”

“Not intentionally.” You say quickly, remembering how most of the year had felt like a series of events you had no control over.

“Intentional or not, your actions have been a force of change in our lives.” Lord Diavolo insists. “I’m grateful, and I felt that offering to make a pact with you was the least I could do.”

You nod lightly, a little flustered by his blunt praise. “Well then, I’m grateful, too.” You murmur. “My Lord.”

You _are_ grateful. But deep down, part of you had hoped that – just maybe – Lord Diavolo wanted a pact with you for a more personal reason. _But that probably wouldn’t be appropriate, considering who he is_ , you think with a sigh. _He’s a prince. A diplomat_. _This is all just… intercultural relations, after all._

“Are you alright?” Lord Diavolo asks. He notes the way your face is angled away from him, the way your hands twist in your lap.

“Yes, sorry.” You clear your throat and sit up straighter. “I guess I’m more exhausted than I thought. It’s been a long week.” You admit, feeling anxious once again as you think of your near departure.

“Of course. I understand. I’ll have Barbatos show you to one of our guest rooms so you can rest uninterrupted.” Lord Diavolo says decidedly, without waiting for you to agree to his idea.

As if he had been listening, Barbatos enters from the door where the Little Ds had exited not twenty minutes earlier. “My Lord?” The butler inquires. “Is there anything I can get for you and MC?”

“Barbatos, please show our guest to the garden view room.” Lord Diavolo says, standing.

“At once, my Lord.” Barbatos says with a respectful dip of his head.

“I’d also suggest drawing a warm bath and preparing some tea.” Lord Diavolo turns to you. “Nothing is quite so calming and restorative as the relaxation tea Barbatos blends himself.” He says with conviction, extending his hand to help you to your feet. “It’s just the thing when the affairs of the Devildom grow particularly burdensome.”

His remark reminds you that, powerful demon or no, ruling is still a heavy responsibility. As you take his proffered hand, you sincerely hope that making a pact with you won’t cause the demon Lord any trouble, given what Satan had hinted at about changes in popular opinion.

“I hope you’ll rest comfortably tonight.” Lord Diavolo says as he releases your fingers. “I’ll let Lucifer know you’ll be staying with us.”

You nod, still mildly embarrassed by your cultural blunder.

“Please don’t hesitate to call either Barbatos or myself if you need anything. I’m at your disposal now, after all.” Lord Diavolo says with a hint of his carefree smile.

You blush at the implication that Lord Diavolo is in your service but manage to thank him before turning to leave. Barbatos meets you at the door with a quiet smile. “Follow me, please.”

The guest room and the bath Barbatos draws are everything you didn’t know you needed. The moment you slip out of your clothes and into the warm water is the first time you’ve felt truly relaxed in weeks, though the peaceful silence of Lord Diavolo’s castle is almost unsettling, given how accustomed you’ve grown to the clamor in the House of Lamentation. Here, no one comes knocking on the door or bursting in to interrupt. You easily spend the greater part of an hour in a delightful cocoon of bubbles.

When you finally finish, you emerge from the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy white robe, removing the excess damp from your hair with an equally fluffy towel. With a contented sigh, you hang the towel on the back of the bathroom door and make for the set of silk pajamas Barbatos has set out for you on the luxurious guest bed.

Before you can reach your pajamas, however, you hear a greeting at your door. “I’ve brought your tea, MC. May I come in?”

The voice is muffled, and your mind elsewhere, so you’re surprised to find that it’s Lord Diavolo on the other side of the door instead of Barbatos when you open it. He’s wearing a black silk robe trimmed with gold and tied with a gold sash. He looks more royal than usual like this – given you usually see him in his RAD uniform – although he’s clearly dressed for bed and carrying a tea tray.

“I thought I’d bring it myself so I could check in on you.” Lord Diavolo explains with a smile. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Not at all, my Lord.” You answer quickly, opening the door more widely. You watch him make his way to the armchairs in front of the fireplace, a small side table between them, in mild amazement. _Lord Diavolo in pajamas_ … you shake your head at the oddness of it, watching his slippered feet walk across the richly carpeted floor.

Lord Diavolo begins pouring two cups of tea before looking up to see you still standing by the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume you’d enjoy my company.” He says, setting down the teapot.

“Oh, no, it’s alright.” _More than alright._ You think before you can catch yourself, your eyes noting the way the thin fabric of Lord Diavolo’s robe drapes over his muscular form easily. _It only makes him look even more princely,_ you think. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, my Lord.” You add as you remember who you’re talking to, willing your mind to stop its wandering. You close the guestroom door and walk over to sit with him in front of the fire that Barbatos must have seen to while you were bathing.

Lord Diavolo passes you a hot cup of tea, and you accept it gratefully, observing the gentle way his strong hands hold the china. As you take your seat, it feels like your bath has only been an interruption of your earlier conversation, as you find yourself sitting opposite the Prince. But you’re no longer in the music room, and the intimate setting is made more so by the casualness of sleepwear. A bit self-consciously, you wrap your robe more tightly around you, suddenly aware that you’re inappropriately dressed to receive visitors of any kind, let alone Lord Diavolo.

“Are you feeling any better, MC?” Lord Diavolo asks, settling into his chair with his own cup of tea.

“I am, actually.” You start to say but find yourself rendered speechless by the spicy-sweet notes of your beverage. _Wow, this is incredible,_ you think. It still has a kick, but it’s much sweeter than the usual flavors you encounter in the Devildom.

Lord Diavolo beams, reading your face. “It’s sweetened with raw honey from the apiary here on castle grounds.”

“It’s delicious.” You say, quickly taking another appreciative sip.

Lord Diavolo agrees. “I’m very fortunate to have Barbatos in my service.”

“He does seem to be spectacularly good at what he does.” You comment honestly, letting the steam from the tea warm your face.

Lord Diavolo nods emphatically. “I greatly rely on Barbatos. I don’t know how I would manage without him. His support for the exchange program has been unwavering, and he has always believed in my dream.”

 _Oh, right. Harmony between the realms._ You study Lord Diavolo, who now seems lost in thought, his eyes gazing at the fireplace as you take another sip of tea.

“Thank you.” You say, causing Lord Diavolo to turn his auburn head back to you. “If it weren’t for your dream, I wouldn’t be here.”

You’re rewarded with a smile. “And I’m very glad you are.”

You spend several minutes in silence, appreciating Barbatos’ work and relaxing in one another’s presence with the help of the tea and the warmth of the hearth. As you sip, you try to keep your eyes from lingering too long on Lord Diavolo’s handsome face and pajama-clad form. 

As he pours you both another cup of tea, Lord Diavolo leans forward slightly in his chair, his silk robe slipping with his movement, and the _v_ of the neckline reveals a few inches of his smooth chest. _Is he not wearing a shirt?_ You find yourself staring and quickly dart your eyes back to your teacup. _Maybe I’m getting a little_ too _relaxed_ , you think, taking another sip of your tea and letting the flavor rest on your tongue.

When you look up again, telling yourself you will _not_ sneak another peek at Lord Diavolo’s pecs, you find him watching you intently, some question or confession clearly on the tip of his tongue.

“MC, I have something to tell you.” Lord Diavolo begins, his fingers tightening around his teacup. “I didn’t answer your question earlier this evening in total honestly. As you know, it’s important to me that I always tell the truth.” Despite the tension in his hand, his features are surprisingly soft.

You pause, your teacup halfway to your lips. “My Lord?”

Lord Diavolo sets his tea down on the table with a clink of china, clearing his throat. “Forming a pact with you means more to me than a show of my very deep appreciation for all you’ve done.” He begins, made slightly nervous by your sitting so still across from him as you listen. “Given my position, I never planned to speak so openly because I didn’t want you to feel pressured by my title. But now that we have a pact-bond, I would like to come clean.”

You feel a flutter of anticipation in your stomach as you carefully lower your teacup, balancing it in your lap as Lord Diavolo continues.

“The truth is, I’ve grown quite fond of you, and I’d hoped a pact would bring us closer together, with time.” Lord Diavolo’s voice is unassuming as his eyes peer at you warmly. “If you don’t return my feelings, I understand.” Lord Diavolo continues quietly, reaching for his tea once more.

Your breath catches in your throat as you try to make sure you’re processing Lord Diavolo’s words correctly. _Lord Diavolo is_ fond _of me?_ In a rush you recall what you’d felt when he held you in the garden, the way his breath tickled your lips, the warmth of his hands on your face.

“And I would never have thought to say this so soon, but, after the events of the other evening…” Lord Diavolo looks down into his cup and then back up at you, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks. “If you feel similarly, I would like to ask if you’d be interested in celebrating our pact in the traditional way.”

You take a deep breath, trying to think past your pulse pounding in your ears, your thoughts too rapid to pin down in a proper response. You’ve been realizing just how, well, _fond_ you’ve grown of Lord Diavolo as well. And of course, you’ve prepared for the event of his wanting to consummate that pact, but… Now that it isn’t about an exchange, or a ceremony, the decision suddenly seems to mean so much more. “M-my Lord.” Your mouth is cotton, your words failing you now that you’re faced with the implications of your mutual feelings.

When you make no move to speak further, Lord Diavolo becomes concerned. Has he truly upset you this much? It’s the last thing he wants, to add to your worries. He sets down his cup of tea again without finishing it, rising quickly to his feet. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” He says apologetically. “I’ll be going so you can get your rest.” His robe swishes against the carpet as he turns and begins walking towards the door.

“Wait!” You call after him, jumping to your feet. Lord Diavolo turns back to you, startled by your sudden cry and the anxious look on your face. “Please…” Your heart is pounding in your chest and your legs feel oddly weak as you stand there awkwardly; you still haven’t worked out what to say.

You stand motionless, holding your teacup precariously in one hand. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Lord Diavolo asks, coming back to you swiftly to steady you with a warm hand on your arm. “Is there something I can do?” Lord Diavolo adds with concern as his hand on your arm dips to your elbow, his voice low and rich.

Lord Diavolo’s near presence is both imposing and reassuring – like his question. You look up to see his liquid gold eyes swimming with emotion, and it seems like his hold on your elbow is the only thing anchoring you, keeping you from drowning in them.

“Y-yes,” Your words get caught in your throat as Lord Diavolo takes a step closer, until the auburn locks of his hair are falling into his eyes as he looks down at you. Your eyes widen, but you don’t look away. Despite the flush of your cheeks, you continue to meet his gaze, and Lord Diavolo sees a glimpse of the courage he’s so used to seeing in you. And – is he mistaken to read affection in the light of your eyes?

Tentatively, Lord Diavolo reaches out with his other hand to touch your cheek. “Tell me what I can do for you.” He says, his voice thick with feeling.

You’ve stopped breathing, the brush of his fingertips on your face the only sensation you can register. “My Lord,” Your voice wavers as you look up at him, your swirling emotions slowly settling into a clear decision. 

“Yes?” Lord Diavolo murmurs, brow creased in a question. The metallic-trimmed robe brings out the gold of his eyes, and you’re once again struck with how royal he looks. Despite his nobility, Lord Diavolo’s closeness is comforting.

“I-I would like to celebrate our pact. In the traditional way.” You say, hoping he hasn’t found your hesitation off-putting.

A look of mild shock passes over his face before Lord Diavolo smiles, the same softness in his eyes as you saw for the first time earlier this week, when he had walked you home. “I’d be honored.” He says seriously.

“O-okay.” You say, feeling suddenly nervous.

Lord Diavolo nods towards the teacup in your slightly trembling hand. “Would you feel more comfortable with another cup of tea? Or perhaps a spell for relaxation or stamina?” He asks gently.

The question is posed matter-of-factly, but the implications are there; you have no idea what you’ve signed up for. Still, his comment serves as a timely reminder.

“Actually,” You say, blushing hotly. “I brought a potion. Satan prepared it for me.”

Lord Diavolo is unable to hide his pleased smile. “I’m happy to hear this.” He says gratefully.

“I’ll go get it.” You say as Lord Diavolo gently takes the teacup from your fingers and sets it back down on the table. You turn from him in a daze, heading to the bathroom without even stopping to consider whether he really intends for you consummate the pact now, here. 

As you close the door to the bathroom behind you, you lean against it for the briefest of moments as you try to steady your breathing. _This is really happening_. You tell yourself in disbelief. You can’t deny the adrenaline pumping through your body, the anticipation that already has your face flushed with excitement.

Digging a small pouch out of the bag you'd left in the bathroom, you carefully dump its contents into your hands: a small bottle and a note with Satan’s scrawling handwriting. Setting the bottle down on the marble counter, you unfold the note carefully. _Take half the bottle immediately prior. Do not mix with other intoxicants._ _Be safe_.

You examine the bottle closely. It’s small and delicate, fitting easily in your hand. The liquid within is a deep purple, almost black. _Intoxicant_? You wonder at Satan’s choice of words but remind yourself that now is not the time. At this very moment, the Lord of the Devildom is waiting for you. The thought makes your pulse race, and you pull the stopper from the bottle with some difficulty, your nerves causing your fingers to slip. Once you’ve managed to open it, you tilt your head back and down the bottle’s contents quickly.

You’re swallowing the last drop of the elixir when suddenly your heart leaps into your throat – hadn’t Satan’s note said to take _half_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My only excuse for the excessive amount of dialogue is that we don't get enough 1-on-1 with MC and Diavolo! <3 Also had to do some set-up for the next chapter, of course. I'm sure you can tell where things are headed, but please do check updated tags when the next chapter is posted! The explicit rating for this fic is about to become very relevant.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chance to check the tags! <3

_Dammit!_

In a panic, you reach for the glass on the bathroom counter and fill it at the sink – maybe you can dilute the mixture if you drink enough water? _Yeah, because I really know how this demonic elixir stuff works_. You roll your eyes at yourself even as you down a second glass of water. The note didn’t mention what would happen if you took too much, but you’re sure overdosing on a magic potion cannot be a good thing. You stand in the middle of the bathroom waiting for the potion to take effect, heart beating rapidly while you shift from one foot to the other. You dig your D.D.D. out of your bag to text Satan hurriedly, but no reply comes.

Several minutes later, when you still feel nothing and there’s no word from Satan, you finally take a deep breath, feeling slightly calmer. _Maybe there’s nothing to worry about after all_ , you think, looking at yourself in the oversized mirror. You seem normal enough, aside from your flushed cheeks – and you had those before taking the potion. And now that you think about it, you’re looking less tired, too. Well, that’ll have to be good enough for now. Smoothing your robe with your hands, you brace yourself to return to the room where, hopefully, your would-be lover is still waiting.

Lord Diavolo is still standing where you left him, his auburn head turned up to look at the ceiling, an almost nervous tap of his foot on the carpet. When you walk towards him, he turns toward you, face relaxing, foot finally still. Part of him had wondered if you had changed your mind when you hadn’t returned to him right away. He chastises himself inwardly for doubting you.

“Are you ready?” He holds out his arms and you walk into them.

“Yes.” You respond quickly. “My Lord.”

Lord Diavolo smiles at your eagerness. “Very good.” He says, holding you in his arms and looking at you with surprisingly vulnerable eyes. “I haven’t done this with a human in a very long time.”

“Oh, that’s okay, my Lord.” You offer quietly, confused by what you take to be his request for reassurance.

Lord Diavolo smiles at your kindness. “What I mean is, I am no longer up-to-date on human sexual practices and preferences, and as the Prince of this realm, I feel it is my duty to ensure that you are completely satisfied.” Your breath hitches as his hand moves to the small of your back, pushing you closer to him. “That is why I’d like you to take the lead.” Lord Diavolo’s golden eyes seem to burn into your own. “Please tell me what to do.”

Your head spins a little; nothing could have prepared you for an opportunity like this. So, you say the first thing that comes to mind. “I want to kiss you again.” You murmur. “M-my lord.”

Lord Diavolo seems unfazed by the modesty of your request, as if what you’d asked of him was the most natural thing in the realms. He bends towards you, placing a hand on your cheek and tilting your face to his as he brings his mouth to yours slowly.

It’s a simple kiss, and yet, your body’s response is surprisingly immediate. As Lord Diavolo’s tongue delicately wets your lips, you begin to press yourself against him with the softest of moans; the caress of his lips is inviting, the taste of him, invigorating. The blood is already rushing in your ears as you chase his kiss with your own, pressing your mouth to his hungrily. If he’s surprised by the intensity of your response, Lord Diavolo doesn’t show it, trusting you to set the pace.

Finding your hands resting on Lord Diavolo’s chest, your fingers push back the smooth fabric of his robe, sliding beneath it to run over his bare skin as his tongue continues to slip against yours. Your hands travel over his pecs, sliding down his abs, until your progress is halted by the sash riding low on his waist. Not to be deterred, you embrace the demon, gliding your hands up his strong back beneath his robe as you softly pant into his kiss.

Lord Diavolo nibbles at your bottom lip, humming at the feeling of your small hands climbing his back. Slipping a hand between your bodies, he tugs on his sash until the knot comes undone, letting his robe fall open. You take Lord Diavolo’s movement as cue to disrobe him, pulling lightly at the fabric until it slides off of his shoulders and down his arms, dropping to the floor around his feet. Lord Diavolo responds in kind, untying the cord of your robe easily, guiding the garment down your shoulders and arms until it joins his on the floor. You blush at your sudden nudity, but you don’t feel particularly embarrassed, not with the Prince’s hands immediately resuming their comforting caresses. You sigh into his kisses, your body made hot by his touch.

“You’re lovely.” Lord Diavolo murmurs, lips pressed to yours, his warm hands sweeping from navel to neck as he outlines the smooth curves of your bare skin, lingering briefly on your breasts and your already stiff nipples. You thank him with another needy kiss, allowing your hands to roam freely over his bare chest and stomach.

When your wandering hands reach the waist of Lord Diavolo’s pajama bottoms, you slip a finger shyly under the band. “I want to see you.” You murmur as the ache between your legs grows more demanding. “I want to see all of you.” 

Slowly, Lord Diavolo pulls his pajamas down his muscular thighs and off his legs, removing his slippers before he straightens for your inspection. Your eyes fall to his stiffening length, his size leaving you momentarily weak in the knees. With a sharp intake of breath, you divert your eyes gaze, blushing heavily. Lord Diavolo grins at your red face. “Does it please you?” He asks, pulling you close to him again.

“Y-yes.” You stammer, still a bit shocked. _How can he possibly fit inside me?_ You think, your stomach tight with anticipation. You raise your head to look up at Lord Diavolo, and suddenly, your concern evaporates, leaving only an indecent excitement in its place. “Yes,” You say again, more confidently. “Very, _very_ much.”

Using one hand to pull Lord Diavolo’s head back down, you reunite your mouths while running your other over his stiffening length, stroking him gently. Lord Diavolo’s grip on your waist tightens as he grows harder at your touch, his quiet moan stirring the heat inside you. Without consciously deciding to do so, you’re suddenly guiding him to the bed, taking small steps backwards, your mouth hungry on his as he follows.

When you reach the bedframe, Lord Diavolo pauses, pulling his lips from yours. “Would you mind if I’m in my true form?” He asks you quietly. “I’m accustomed to it, and you should be able to withstand the added strain.” He says, acknowledging the potion you took.

“Oh!” Your subdued noise of surprise is edged with interest, your heart thumping heavily at the thought of Lord Diavolo in all his infernal glory. “O-of course.”

Lord Diavolo takes a step back, allowing his demon form to materialize, his horns protruding from his auburn head, large wings unfurling from somewhere at his back. His entire form seems to grow and darken simultaneously, brimming with power. If he looked princely before, he now looks kingly, and you feel small in comparison.

Sensing your misgiving, Lord Diavolo reaches for you with his large hands. “It’s just me.” He chuckles softly, and it’s strange to hear his voice unchanged.

“ _Just_ the Lord of the Devildom.” You mumble with a note of sarcasm, running your hand over Lord Diavolo’s chest to confirm his claim, your fingers stuttering when his wingtips twitch in response to your touch. It _is_ him, but he isn’t the same. And it’s more than just the stunning perfection of his form that is affecting you – it’s the majesty of it. In his demonic form, Lord Diavolo is intimidating, otherworldly, awesome in the true sense of the word. This form makes you want to get on your knees and adore him, to offer yourself up to him like… the illustration Satan showed you fills your mind. _Like one of his witches_.

Lord Diavolo dips his horned head down to give you a sweet kiss, as if to reassure you, trailing his hands down your sides. “I want to please you.” He says, voice deep and rumbling against your mouth. “Tell me what you like.” You shiver, your body sensitive to the drag of his nails against your skin.

“I like this.” You gasp, your breath mingling with his; there’s already a slickness between your thighs and a demanding thrumming in your core. “I like how you feel against my skin.” You whisper as the demon reaches around you, pulling your naked body to him tightly. Your head spins, and you’re almost overwhelmed by how _much_ you like it, beginning to wonder if the potion is taking effect after all. You press your lips to Lord Diavolo’s neck, tracing the dark marks that decorate the skin there. You’re rewarded with a low rumble in your ear, and your body quivers at the noise, responding to the sound with a flaring heat that catches you off guard.

Suddenly you’re being gently buffeted by the air as Lord Diavolo beats his wings several times to lift the two of you off the ground. You squeal as you’re momentarily suspended in his arms before you come to rest in the bed behind you, lying prone beneath the demon, his wings spread behind him like a bird of prey. Sinking into the blankets, you wind your arms around Lord Diavolo’s neck, your fingers tangling in his auburn locks, stretching out to wrap delicately around his horns. The sound of your mouths meeting is quiet in the large room, but each kiss leaves you increasingly breathless.

Lord Diavolo moves his mouth to your jaw, then up to your cheekbone. “Please,” Lord Diavolo whispers, his lips moving to your ear as he feels another shiver run through your body. “Don’t hold back.”

Even if you want to hold back, you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to. The brush of his lips makes you moan in earnest, a shameless sound that seems as if it comes from outside of you, or maybe from somewhere so deep in you that you don’t recognize it as yours. _What’s happening to me?_ "My Lord,” You gasp, your body arching towards him when Lord Diavolo kisses behind your ear. You clutch him to you in a surprisingly needy gesture, your body craving more contact. _Is this the intoxication Satan’s note mentioned?_

When Lord Diavolo’s eyes meet yours, he’s alarmed to find them so dark and wanting, the light in them shining with something supernatural, almost demonic. “What exactly was the potion you took?” He questions, noting the redness of your cheeks and your sharp breaths.

“I-I don’t know what was in it.” You pant up at him, your hands in his hair sliding down to his strong neck as another wave of desire makes you shudder. “But I think maybe I took too much.” You admit, looking up at Lord Diavolo sheepishly.

Your body has begun to rock gently, grinding against his hardness that presses against your thighs, and the demon bites back a groan as he considers you, wary of the raw lust emanating from you – and how greatly he wants to indulge in it. “I’ll call Barbatos.” Lord Diavolo says, moving to extricate himself from your embrace.

“No!” Your keening cry shocks Lord Diavolo into stillness. “Please,” You beg, biting your lip as you try to pull him towards you, heady with your own inescapable need. “I-I took it for _you_.” You explain, brushing a thumb against Lord Diavolo’s warm lips. “I took it so we could… do this.” Your voice drops to a whisper.

Lord Diavolo takes a moment to evaluate the lovely human in his arms. Aside from the intensity of your urges, you seem to be alright. More than that, you’re a vision, the bright orbs of your eyes positively glowing, your body deliciously warm and soft under him. Lord Diavolo hadn’t expected such passion from you, but it only makes him want to please you even more, until you’re moaning and trembling in ecstasy beneath him, until you fall from whatever grace your lineage has granted you and into his arms. “I’m glad you did, then.” He replies huskily, giving into temptation. Lord Diavolo brings his lips down on your neck, feeling your body rise to meet him as you gasp. How could he ever refuse this sweet human? How could he not give you what you seem to want so badly? “Please,” He says, punctuating his words with kisses. “Tell me… how to… please you.”

“More of this.” You instruct the demon in a moan, running your hands down his strong arms while relishing the velvety brush of his lips on your skin. “Much more.” You feel like you’re floating, or maybe sinking – either way, you’re quickly becoming desperate, your body burning with desire for the demon whose firm body is resting on top of yours, this lord of darkness, this winged prince of the air, the future king of the Devildom.

Lord Diavolo’s mouth sucks at your neck, then your collarbone, working lower until he’s planting kisses between your breasts. His hands move to pin your wrists to the bed as he glides his tongue up and over the peaks of your chest, swirling over your stiff nipples while you whimper. Squirming against his erection, pressed low between your thighs, you groan as his sharp teeth tease your buds, his mouth hot on your breasts.

“L-lower, my Lord.”

You hum when Lord Diavolo follows your directions obediently, kissing all the places you direct him to, releasing your wrists as he dips lower on your body. 

“My Lord,” You address the demon, face flushed. “Touch me.” Your eyes are dark with longing, your pulse racing.

“Tell me where.” Lord Diavolo purrs, his golden eyes staring up at you unblinkingly as his hands stroke your sides, his feather-light sending tingles to your core. There’s something wicked in your voice – something he wants to hear more of.

“T-touch me—” You whine, trying to sidestep the language you need, afraid of the obscenities that push up against your teeth as you fight your own words. “Touch me b-between my legs.”

Lord Diavolo hums approvingly as his hands travel down to your hips and between your thighs, where he nudges your legs apart. You hold your breath, shuddering as his fingers brush your entrance, caressing your folds lightly before he easily slips his index finger into your wet heat. “A-ah!” You exclaim, grabbing onto his horns as the demon moves his digit in and out of your dripping slit slowly, tantalizingly. “M-more,” Your body is impatient, demanding. “Please, my Lord!” Lord Diavolo adds another, and your hips raise to thrust his fingers deeper into you, even as you clench around them.

“Please, m-more.” You beg, driven by your body’s demands. “O-oh, _fuck._ ” You groan as Lord Diavolo adds a third digit, stretching you in a wonderful way. You’re unable to refrain from moaning his name loudly as the demon Prince watches you writhe against his fingers, absolutely enamored with his view of your pleasure. This sweet, brave human, brought to near tears by his hand… it makes him weak. 

You quiver when Lord Diavolo uses his thumb on your pleasure point, making you cry out. The contact is overwhelming, your body so sensitive in its lust that you think you might finish right then and there, but his massaging of your bud only serves to drown you deeper in your desire. You look down at Lord Diavolo with desperate eyes. “Use your mouth, m-my Lord.” You ache with the want of your words.

Lord Diavolo lowers his lips to where his fingers pump inside you and flicks his tongue against your sensitive bud, anxious to please you. You gasp, gripping his horns more tightly in your fists. “ _Ah!_ ” You buck as his warm tongue works in small motions that have you whimpering. You feel as though you could and should cum, the coiling inside you already deliriously mind-numbing. But for some reason you can’t, staying in that just-before moment, unable to find your release at Lord Diavolo’s curling fingers and attentive mouth; you need more from him.

“I want you to take me, my Lord,” The words drip from your lips thickly without your telling them to as you roll your hips against Lord Diavolo’s mouth and hand. “Like one of your witches.” Your breathless demand tumbles out, burning your tongue in its intensity as you meet the demon’s eyes, feeling his power shiver through your body.

Lord Diavolo recovers quickly from your forwardness and chuckles deeply, enchanted by the tingle of magic that laces your words as you unknowingly invoke the pact-bond with your order. “As you wish.” He rumbles, lips curving in a sinful smile, wings spreading out to an imposing width, bathing you in shadow. “I shall make you mine.” The room seems to darken, the air around you vibrating with the Prince’s power.

Lord Diavolo acts quickly, suddenly back over your body, caging you with his limbs. “Spread your legs for me.” He growls lowly, an ancient heat in his eyes. Are you imagining things, or does the mattress under your back feel more like earth, the blankets like a cushion of moss?

You spread your legs obediently beneath Lord Diavolo, gasping when the tip of his impressive length slides against the wetness of your folds, slipping against your opening. Carefully, Lord Diavolo uses a hand to guide his member to your entrance and begins pushing into your tight heat slowly, making you whine at his stretch. There’s pain, but it’s manageable. You breathe heavily, watching Lord Diavolo’s eyes darken as you’re filled inch by inch.

Lord Diavolo clenches his jaw as your wet warmth engulfs his length, his pulse rapid. He shouldn’t fit, but it’s like your body is adjusting, accommodating. Your eyes roll slightly, lids fluttering, when he finally bottoms out. Fully sheathed in your tight heat, he lifts your legs up around his waist and gently rocks his hips against yours, eliciting a raw mewl from your throat.

“Oh, _fuck..._ ” You moan deeply. You have no doubt now; those were expressions of ecstasy on the faces of those witches in Satan’s illustration.

“It isn’t too much, is it?” Lord Diavolo asks thickly, feeling your legs shake slightly against his sides from the depth of his penetration.

You grit your teeth and shake your head emphatically, still breathing heavily. “ _N-n-no!_ ” You assure him, amazed to find that, somehow, it really isn’t too much. But _fuck –_ you’re so _full_. “H-how does it feel, my Lord?”

Lord Diavolo’s eyes are radiant as he brings his mouth to yours. “Incredible.” He whispers against your lips with another roll of his hips, holding you in his arms as he rocks gently into you, making you moan as he hits you just right.

As much as he would prefer to take it slow with you, the pact magic overrides Lord Diavolo’s personal preference. His measured strokes grow harder, rougher, as he drives his length into you relentlessly. And as he does, Lord Diavolo sees his own ferocity reflected on your face, hears its echoes in the wild rapture of your moans.

The room is flickering, dark shapes like trees looming behind and around you, punctured by starlight – a woodland backdrop to your unholy consummation. As you wrap your arms around Lord Diavolo’s neck, holding on tight while he takes you, strange sounds slip past your perception, near and then far again: notes of a primordial melody, the cry of a nocturnal creature. When you try to focus on the sensations, you lose them, giving yourself over to the feeling of Lord Diavolo filling you with his length again and again, rekindling the white-hot coil of your pleasure in the pit of you where, you’d swear, you can see the bulge of him come and go with each hard thrust. 

“You’re so _willing_ , my love _._ ” Lord Diavolo moans as your walls clench him tightly, his wings beating shallowly at the air as he sinks into you.

“Anything for you, my Prince.” Your words are dark and adoring as you lift your body towards him like an offering.

Lord Diavolo accepts your submission, growling into your neck and sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin. You cry out, but the pain is jubilant, exquisite, traveling through your body like a shock. The demon sucks at you hungrily, covering your neck with blushing blotches as he continues to bury his length inside you with a groan. When he finally pulls away from your shoulder, his lips are stained with fragile drops of your blood. Just as a part of you wonders whether you’re about to become a sacrifice in earnest, Lord Diavolo kisses you again, the tender caress of his lips anything but violent, though the metallic taste of blood lingers.

Lord Diavolo sits back, effortlessly pulling you with him and onto his lap. His fingernails dig into your hips in bright pinpricks as he grinds you onto his length no less forcefully than he was driving into you moments ago. You meet him motion for motion, rolling your hips to create the perfect friction, moaning as he hits your sweet spot. 

“You’re insatiable.” Lord Diavolo groans, feeling you tighten around him.

You continue to grind yourself onto his length, your movements erotic, primal. “Only for you, my Prince.” You reply fervidly, awed by the dark power you see in his eyes.

“And what would you do for your Prince?” Lord Diavolo asks, moaning as he rolls his hips against you, burying his cock inside your tight heat.

The scent of brimstone and fire dances faintly on the edge of your awareness. “I would burn for you, my Lord.” You moan brokenly, your words spilling from your lips of their own accord, a flicker of diabolic flame in your eyes.

“I would never let you.” Lord Diavolo whispers, enthralled by your worship, by how wholly you’re becoming his. The feeling of your small fingers wrapped around his horns, the crimson smear across your lips, the way the air reverberates with your pact magic... If this is what he’s waited centuries for, Lord Diavolo thinks, it was more than worth it. Picking up the pace, he maneuvers both arms under your legs, bending them over his elbows, feet dangling. You whimper as your legs are spread wide, falling on either side of Lord Diavolo’s upper arms, nearly his shoulders, as he braces you with hands just above your ass.

Lord Diavolo groans as you cling to his neck, as your body shudders from its fullness, your head falling back from the depth of the demon’s thrusts. His wingtips are trembling, and he can tell you’re aching for release, your wordless whimpers making his cock throb, bringing him to the edge. Pulling you closer to him, Lord Diavolo groans your name into your neck like a question.

“Inside.” You instruct him, gasping as you reach your limit, as your breath sticks. “Fill me, my Prince.”

Your order would compel him, but there’s no need; your words alone bring Lord Diavolo swiftly to his peak. He moans, thrusting up into you one last time, and you finally reach your ecstasy in his arms, crying out as your mind floods with profane pleasure while Lord Diavolo spills his release inside you.

When you come down from your orgasmic high, you sag against Lord Diavolo’s tattooed chest, breathing heavily. Resting your head against his shoulder, you catch your breath, unable or unwilling to move. The strange surroundings that you saw in your lust-filled haze have melted away, and you’re suddenly self-conscious about how you acted and what you said in the heat of the moment.

“Are you alright?” Lord Diavolo rests a hand on the back of your head, holding you close as you recuperate, his wings folding around you protectively. The gesture reminds you of when he’d comforted you in the garden, and you smile weakly. “I-I think so.” You sigh, enjoying the feeling of safety in his arms. You keep your face tucked in his neck but wrap your arms around his torso more securely. “Was I – too much?”

Lord Diavolo laughs, the movement jostling your head from his shoulder so that you look at him. “Not at all.” He reassures you, wiping stray hairs from your face. “I suspect the potion influenced your behavior, but it was not at all unwelcome.” He smiles widely, making you blush. “And truthfully I’m partly to blame. You invoked our pact when you asked me to— _take_ you—and I’m afraid it limited my ability to be as gentle as I would have liked.” Lord Diavolo gingerly brushes a thumb over the bitemarks on your neck that are already healing, thanks to the elixir. 

Removing you from his lap, Lord Diavolo carefully rests you against what are now clearly pillows and not some sort of forest fauna. “It was strange.” You mumble as you recall the glimpses of wilderness you’d seen. “At times, it felt like we were somewhere else. Outdoors somewhere.” You wonder aloud. “It felt… wild.”

“That must have been the potion.” Lord Diavolo says, lying at your side and resting his warm hand on your stomach. “Perhaps a hallucination of some sort.” He muses as he rubs comforting circles on your belly. After a moment in thought, his hand stills, and he looks at you with concern. “I hope that you were still satisfied?”

“Very.” You admit readily. “My Lord.” You add quickly, realizing you’d dropped the formality.

Lord Diavolo smiles. “I’m glad. And you don’t have to use my title. It’s just us, here.” He says, placing an affectionate kiss on your forehead.

“Actually, I like it.” You say shyly.

Lord Diavolo chuckles. “I see. Well, in that case, so do I.” He licks his bottom lip and then continues with a self-conscious expression. “I would love nothing more than to draw you another warm bath and call for more tea,” Lord Diavolo confesses. “But there’s another matter we’ll have to address first.”

“What is it, my Lord?”

Lord Diavolo smiles almost cheekily. “You commanded me to consummate our pact traditionally, and I’m afraid that, _traditionally_ , the celebration lasts until dawn.” He admits. “You will need to release me from that command if we wish to spend the evening in other ways.”

An echo of lust stirs in your core, and you eye the Prince with a coy smile. “And… if I don’t?”

Lord Diavolo hums, pulling you by your waist on top of him, forcing you to straddle his hips. The movement throws you off balance, and you catch yourself with your hands on his chest with a giggle. “Then I’m yours for as long as you want me.” He says softly, cupping your chin in his hand and admiring the sparkle in your eyes. You smile, something in Lord Diavolo’s voice telling you he’d be happy to keep his promise long past sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stand by my assertion that Diavolo is a precious bean, who just also happens to be THE demon of all demons, so I thought it would be fun to play around with a darker, more occult-y feeling theme to make him stand out from the others.The potion and its effects were inspired by some very cursory reading on the witches' sabbath that was first practiced in the 14th century. <3 
> 
> Please let me know if you've been following along and liked it! I've never posted a one-shot as multiple chapters before, so I'm very self conscious about this one, haha. Thanks for reading <3 <3


	4. Afterward

“You shouldn’t leave your stuff just lyin’ around like that.” Mammon says, dropping Satan’s D.D.D. down in front of him on the dining table. “Luckily, your big brother found this for ya’!” He adds, clearly waiting to be praised before taking his seat for breakfast.

Satan picks up his D.D.D. quickly, unsettled when he sees not one, not two, but easily half a dozen notifications. All from you. “Dammit.” He mumbles, unlocking the device and ignoring Mammon completely.

“What? No tip for returning your D.D.D. safe and sound? I coulda’ made easy money by sellin’ that, ya know!” Mammon complains, trying to regain Satan’s attention. He stops when he sees the serious look on his brother’s face. Knowing it’s useless to talk to Satan when he’s like this, Mammon saunters off to take his seat with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Morning!~” Asmo skips into the dining room, humming cheerily. “Now, which one of you had the time of their life last evening? I had the most _vivid_ dreams all night long, and you know I only have those when one of us gets lucky, so fess up!” He smiles delightedly, taking his seat.

“C’mon, no sexy talk at the breakfast table. I’m tryin’ ta’ eat.” Mammon complains, shoveling a spoonful of Devil Puffs cereal into his mouth.

“Hm, not Mammon, then.” Asmo deduces, turning his attention to the eldest, wondering if his proud older brother has finally found an adequate method of stress relief. "Lucifer? It had to be one of us - the level of lust was _far_ beyond what my pact-holders could experience and survive." Asmo gushes gleefully. 

“What is it?” Lucifer asks Satan from the head of the table, ignoring Asmo’s question; whatever is distracting Satan is most likely of more importance than any foolishness the Avatar of Lust may have sensed.

“Nothing.” Satan replies curtly, eyes on his D.D.D. Your last message had been sent shortly after midnight. He hurriedly sends you a chat: _Are you alright? Please answer me._ He isn’t sure _exactly_ what an overdose of the potion might cause, but he’s having unpleasant thoughts about how it might have affected your fragile human body – not to mention your psyche.

“Really?” Lucifer asks coolly.

“Really.” Satan sets his D.D.D. on the table, quickly grabbing a serving of the nearest dish and pouring himself a cup of melancholy coffee. He’ll just have to go over and check on you himself. It’ll be easy enough to tell Lucifer he’s just accompanying you back to the House of Lamentation, since they’d all been informed that you’d be spent the previous night at the Demon Lord’s castle. _But none of them know what that really means_ , Satan thinks worriedly, eating quickly.

"You're all no fun." Asmo sighs. "But I'll figure it out in the end." He reaches past Mammon for the fruit bowl, only to send Beel a scathing glare when he finds it already empty.

Beel shrugs, swallowing several bites of food at once. "Sorry. You were late."

"Maybe I was just sensing you and your _enthusiasm_ for a midnight snack last night, Beel." Asmo reprimands him. "Tell me, how is the fridge faring this morning?"

Beel glowers, but his expression brightens immediately as a fresh stack of red-spider pancakes appears on his plate, courtesy of Belphie.

"Leave him alone. You probably just had a dream about yourself." Belphie mumbles, rubbing his eyes with a tired yawn. 

Just as Satan’s pushing back his chair to get up from the table, his D.D.D. rumbles with a new message. He opens it quickly to find you’ve sent him a selfie. You look absolutely exhausted, hair a mess, body trapped in a tangle of sheets, and deep circles under your eyes. The angle of the picture is such that Satan can also make out the bare back, broad shoulders, and auburn hair of a certain demon Lord, who appears to be sleeping soundly next to you in bed.

Turning his body so that the image won’t be seen by his brothers, Satan examines it more closely. Despite your disheveled appearance – and what he thinks might be bite marks – you’re actually smiling, and there’s something about you that is undeniably alluring. At least, more so than usual. A glimmer in your eyes? The slightly seductive curve of your lips? The way one leg peeks out from under the bed clothes? Satan feels an annoying blush creeping into his cheeks. 

“Ooooh, what sort of naughty messages are you receiving this morning?~” Asmo teases from across the table, his curiosity piqued by the flustered face of his brother. “Perhaps it’s a follow-up from your adventurous night?”

“What?” Satan looks up, perplexed. “No.” He says firmly, scooting his chair back in to finish his breakfast. Out of habit, he's been ignoring Asmo's chipper but inane attempt at breakfast conversation.

“Give it up, Asmo.” Mammon complains again with a groan.

Just then, a chat appears below the picture. It’s a kissy demon sticker and one word: _Thanks!_ Satan replies to your chat with a brief _Glad you’re okay_ before stuffing his D.D.D. in his pocket. Still, your text hadn’t really answered the question of what happens in the case of an overdose, he reflects over his cup of melancholy coffee. Would you be willing to recount the experience so that he can document the effects? Or maybe you’d be interested in trying it out another time… perhaps with him? _First-hand experience is always the most reliable when recording qualitative data_ , Satan reminds himself. Besides, there might be things you missed while under the influence that only he would be able to notice. _Yes_ , he thinks, revisiting the picture you sent him in his mind’s eye, _using the elixir again is really the only option_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No follow-up chapter planned, just thought it'd be fun to revisit Satan, here ;)


	5. Bonus Afterward (lol)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You made me do this. A bonus chapter where MC returns to the HoL for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "lol LISTEN i really wanted MC to strut right into Lamentation and let everyone know SHE was the one who got lucky, and it was fucking INCREDIBLE "  
> "I was waiting for MC to just walk in like she owned the place"  
> "more than anything i wanted mc to kick in the door like “it was ME. i rode diavolo like a RODEO.” '  
> "I can imagine MC coming to the house with the song “I JUST HAD SEEEEEX... and it feel so good” on the background"  
> "Awww, no walk of pride into breakfast?" 
> 
> Y'ALL. These are like 90% of the comments I got on this chapter/fic, lmao. So, here. It's not great, but I wrote up something fun for you, lol.

The demon lying next to you mumbles sleepily and peels back a single eyelid to regard you with a golden, glowing eye. “MC...” He murmurs with a smile, arms disentangling from the bedsheets to seek out your warmth.

You allow him to pull you close, sighing at the strong softness that envelopes you. “Good morning, my Lord.” You reply, affectionately sweeping his auburn bangs away from his forehead with a light touch.

“Hmmm.” Lord Diavolo hums, catching your caressing hand in one of his and pressing it gently to his lips. “A very good morning, I think.”

Your knuckles tingle where his lips touch, and your determination wavers. If he asks you, you might stay and spend a long, luxurious morning with Lord Diavolo here in his guest room. A morning full of more tea and warm baths and soft touches and kisses. _If_ he asks. So, you can’t let him.

“My Lord, I don’t want to run off on you, but…” You hesitate, noting the concern that draws Lord Diavolo’s brows together. “This is going to sound so stupid.” You shake your head slightly, pulling his large hand holding yours to your face, hiding behind it.

“What is it?” He asks you kindly, a thumb brushing against your lips, the same lips he had been so reluctant to stop kissing the previous night – or was it earlier this morning? Eventually, your potion had all but worn off, and you’d had to confess to him with sweet, reluctant words that you didn’t think you could continue. He had cleaned you up a bit as your eyelids became heavy, and then you’d fallen asleep in his arms, so easily. _So perfectly_.

“Um, I know it’s weird, but I really don’t want to miss breakfast back at the House.” You give your somewhat silly explanation to Lord Diavolo. “They probably already started without me.”

Lord Diavolo smiles endearingly, and your heart skips a beat. “I understand, MC.” He says. “You don’t have many breakfasts left with them.”

“Yes.” You whisper against his fingers, suddenly itching to leave. It’s always a little chaotic at breakfast, but you wouldn’t miss the opportunity to start your day with them for the world.

Lord Diavolo squeezes your hand reassuringly. “I’ll have Barbatos arrange for you to be taken to the House of Lamentation immediately.”

***

“Levi, last night wasn’t… your first, was it?” Asmo turns to his brother, face hopeful.

“Wh-wh-what!? No!” Levi stutters around a drink of juice, cheeks heating. “Will you shut up about it already? We’ve already told you – it wasn’t one of us.”

Asmo purses his lips in a pout, but it’s evident he’s still in too good a mood to be truly annoyed. “Well, one of you must be lying.” He says, chipper. “And I’m going to find out who!”

Belphie yawns, rolling his eyes at Asmo’s narrowed stare in his direction. “Seriously, maybe you’re just having perverted dreams. That’s got to be a normal thing for you, right?”

“Hmph.” Asmo replies, undeterred. “Just because dreams are a specialty of yours doesn’t mean you understand mine. This was _different._ ”

Belphie shrugs and turns his attention back to Beel to stop him from eating his plate.

Not one of them sees you enter.

Not one of them sees you walking towards the table until you’re fewer than ten feet away.

The sound of silverware clattering onto a plate draws everyone’s attention to Asmo, who looks as if he’s seen a specter. “It was _you!_ ” His amber eyes are wide, his high-pitched yell almost a squeal.

“Me… what?” You ask, grinning awkwardly, suddenly feeling pinned to the spot as if by some giant spotlight. You stare at Asmo, confused, as six heads turn in your direction.

“My _dear_ , I had _no_ idea!” Asmo jumps up from his chair excitedly, skipping around the table to greet you. “I want to know _everything!_ ”

“Er – explain?” You ask as Asmo takes your hands in his and pulls back to drink in the sight of you. His eyes sweep you over from head to toe, taking in every exposed bit of skin, every purplish smudge on your surface that confirms his suspicion.

You turn and cock your head at Satan, as if asking whether he told on you, but he shakes his head slightly, cheeks pink.

“The lust! The _depravity!~_ ” Asmo gushes, eyes sparkling. “Kitten, I am simply _smitten!_ And… a little concerned, if I’m being honest.” He frowns slightly, reaching out a hand to touch your sore spots tenderly, fussing over you.

“Wait, what’s goin’ on?” Mammon asks the room at large, craning his neck to get a better view of you around Asmo.

“It seems that MC had a rather – eventful night at the Demon Lord’s castle.” Lucifer comments coolly, catching your eye, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a knowing smile.

“How did you-?” Your question is cut off by Mammon’s loud voice.

“Woah, wait! THAT’S what Asmo was dreamin’ about!?” The demon’s mouth hangs open in shock.

“You had a dream about me?” You ask Asmo, stopping his sweet hands from practically undressing you to survey the rest of the delicious damage you’re hiding.

“Not just _any_ dream.” Asmo hums delightedly, clutching your hands in his. “It was lurid, profane, sensuously sinful! I-”

“Asmo, that’s enough.” Lucifer’s voice commands him from the head of the table. “Sit down.”

Asmo reluctantly makes his way back to his seat, mouthing a silent: _Let’s talk later!_

“Take a seat, MC.” Satan comes to your rescue, gesturing to your empty spot at the table.

“Thanks, Satan.” You step forward, slipping into your chair, conscious of the way seven pairs of eyes follow you. “I think I’m literally starving.”

The demons watch you pile your plate with whatever scraps are left, careless of whether or not all the items you’re choosing are safe for human consumption.

“Er – maybe not the ghoulberries.” Satan says, dipping his head in the direction of your plate.

“Oh, right. What will they do to me, again? Boils or something?”

“Internal hemorrhage.”

“Got it.”

You scoop the offending fruit off of your plate and prepare to dig in to the rest of your patchwork feast. But something stops you.

“Uh, guys?” You ask, glancing around the table. “Is there something on my face? Why are you all staring?”

“I think they all want to know what happened last night that made Asmo have such… indecent dreams.” Lucifer says, sighing as he sips his cup of tea. “It might be best to indulge them briefly and get it over with.”

 _Seriously? Now?_ You feel like you could eat an entire roasted havoc devil by yourself, but you set down your fork and lean back in your chair, eyeing the group. “Okay, shoot, but make it quick. I feel like Beel right now. What do you perverts want to know?” You’re not quite able to keep the smirk out of your voice.

“Who was it?” Levi is the first to ask the question they all know the answer to.

“Dia– Lord Diavolo.”

“Who made the first move?” Asmo’s question is tamer than you expected.

“He asked.”

“He _asked?_ ” Mammon snorts.

“Yes?”

“Was he romantic?” Asmo asks, leaning forward on his elbows, narrowly avoiding planting them in his remaining breakfast.

“I would say so.” You reply thoughtfully. “Yes.” _Dammit_ , you’re going to blush.

“What were you wearing?” Beel’s question surprises you.

“Er, well, I’m usually naked when I have sex. So, nothing?” This appears to be the right answer, judging from the coloring of Beel’s cheeks.

“What was it like?” Mammon asks, as if the words are being dragged out of him.

You take a moment. “Indescribable. Icredible.”

“How many times did you…?”

You have to count to answer Belphie’s question. “Four.” _Wait._ “No, five.”

“Is he… well endowed?” Asmo asks, earning a scowl from Lucifer.

It’s a personal question, and you probably shouldn’t say… but then again, you’d really like to see the looks on their faces. You hold your hands alarmingly far apart, approximating Lord Diavolo’s size. There’s a brief silence – broken only by Mammon’s strangled expletive – as the brothers exchange impressed glances. Lucifer and Satan are the only ones who manage to appear unfazed by the news.

“I knew it.” Asmo breathes at last.

“Did it… hurt?” Levi asks, face incredibly red.

“Yup. But not too bad, thanks to Satan.”

The eyes around the table now fix on the fourth eldest, who hasn’t asked a single question. “I prepared a potion.” He says simply.

“You _knew!?_ ” Asmo’s accusation is caught somewhere between ecstatic and enraged. “And you didn’t _tell_ me?”

“Is that it?” You ask the room, picking up your fork again. “I haven’t eaten in, like, ten hours, and I was _very_ busy for six of them, so…”

When no one asks another question, you finally begin your breakfast. The room falls silent, all of them focused on the very Beel-like manner in which you’re devouring your food.

Lucifer’s question comes out of nowhere, but you should’ve expected the Avatar of Pride to read between the lines.

“Did you make a pact with Lord Diavolo?”

You swallow your bite of food and look up at him, a teasing frown on your face. “Lucifer, for goodness’ sake, you can’t just _ask_ someone if they’ve made a pact.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not quite the cocky MC you all love, haha, but that's tough for me, alright? Lolol. Anyway, hope you like it, even if it's not exactly what you were expecting lol. <3 <3 <3


End file.
